~~ There are TV commercials for all sorts of debilitating aches and maladies, and I guess by repetition they are seeping into my brain. Last week I felt stinging pain in both my feet and blistering hot itchiness. I’m thinking, what if I have chronic something-something and I become debilitated unless I take that medication that may cause strokes or sudden death? Suddenly, the cause of my agony became comically clear: I was sitting outside (next to a basket of fruit) and bugs were swarming and biting like crazy. Whew!

~~ Last Saturday I attended a lovely party my friend threw for herself. I mean, I think it was lovely, because we arrived many hours late. Driving from NY to NJ is not for the faint of heart and the habitually prompt. We spent hours driving in a near-monsoon, complete with flooding, and then hours more watching crawling bugs overtake us on the highway. Five hours there, three hours back, all in one day. That’s crazy.

~~But we did get to linger in the kitchen for more than an hour with our friend, catching up and chatting. That’s a rarity.

~~ WOO, WOO, WOOshe screamed from somewhere deep within her geriatric self. CRACK, CRACK, CRACK HIM IN THE SKULL.

~~ After that episode, the diminutive dementia patient began practicing to be what I thought was a bullfrog.Once I investigated, I’ll say she sounds like an eastern spadefoot frog. Take a listen: http://www.in.gov/dnr/fishwild/files/spadeft2.MP3

~~ Two days ago, the health care aide walks into the kitchen and unspools about 15 sheets from the paper towel holder. Was there a mess? Nope — she was having lunch. So yesterday, she walks in and sees there’s just about 1½ sheets of paper towel on the roll. She rips off one, looks at me, and walks away. No “Is there another roll?” or any courtesy. It’s the little things.

~~ The smells this week are eau de freshly fertilized field and parfum de fish fry. I waste a lot of time gagging when I could be doing something else. Like crying.

~~ The two-three women in the front of a doctor’s office are habitually grumpy and trash the management every time I’m there. However, they are usually pleasant enough to me. A few days ago, I paid my co-pay by check. “Is this a business check?” one asked. No, it’s just sized for the printer. “You have to go get another one. This check won’t scan in and there’s nothing I can do,” she says quite crabbily. That crustacean changed into a sheep once I said, “I was here a few weeks back and you processed the same type of check then without complaint.” On my way out, her co-worker whispered to me, “She’s on a diet.”